Scott Walker, Tilt



What conjunction of words, hints, whispers has led me back to this? I’ve owned Tilt for something like seven years and listened to it rarely. Each time it’s felt like looking into the noonday sun and I’ve turned away, dazzled. Perhaps the infrequency of my visits can be attributed to Is’s derision (she found Scott’s delivery risible). I’m fairly susceptible to the scepticism of others, but with Tilt it doesn’t impinge at all. I’ve encountered nothing else like it. It impresses with an unparalleled authority and an utter otherness. I don’t really want to describe it, suffice to say that it’s lyrically astonishing, Scott’s voice literally raises hairs on the back of my neck and the music… where the hell does it come from? It’s an extraordinary expression of feeling and thought that cries art from its every pore. 10 or more years separated it from its fascinating predecessor, a further 4 to its partial successor and nothing since. The following is an excerpt from Farmer In The City (Remembering Pasolini).

I’ll give you
21
21
21

This night you
are mistaken

I’m a farmer
in the city

Dark farm
house
against the
sky

Every night
I must wonder
why

Harness on the
left nail keeps
wrinkling wrinkling


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